Is This What Silence Sounds Like?
by winter's-lion
Summary: Basically just my take on the beginning of the movie. Obviously, the movie does a WAAAY better job depicting this than I do...


Is this what silence sounds like?

Quiet, dark and cold. There is simply no sound and seemingly no light. The water is so still, lying like a dead beast below the smooth face of the full Moon. Its light shines over the black ice of the pond.

He drifts. A scream echoes in his ears, that of a young girl, but it vanishes without a trace of memory. Tendrils of moonlight reach from the Moon and dip into the water. He is motionless, a still body floating in the vast emptiness of the water, suspended in the light of darkness. Fingers of moonlight weave between strands of soft white hair, and blue eyes slowly open. A net of moonbeams surrounds him and he rises from the depths of the dead water.

Through warped glass, he sees light. Drawn upwards by ropes of moonbeams, he grows closer and closer, a great circle of light releasing him from darkness. He blinks the eyes of a child and reaches cold fingers to the light.

The surface breaks. Ice soundlessly shatters, relinquishing its prisoner to a world of night and snow. When ice falls from his face, slipping from his rising form, he blinks again. Black eyebrows furrow.

Air reaches him, and still he ascends. He gasps and coughs, choking on the life he hasn't yet breathed. His hair and clothes are wet, shining in the Moon's light.

The Moon gently lifts him, peering into the boy's youthful face. _You are mine,_ it tells him. A father to his child.

The boy slowly smiles.

The Moon is satisfied. It lowers the white-haired boy back to the ice that covers the still water. The moment bare feet touch the ragged hole the boy emerged from, new ice springs from him and he stands on a solid surface. Soft curls of frost thread across the surface of the new ice, responding to his touch. He doesn't notice, cautiously taking a step forwards. Unaccustomed to air and land after his eternity of water, he slips, struggling to learn balance. A quiet sound emerges from him, discovering voice. Trails of frost follow in his wake as he moves across the ice, a complicated pattern that shines like silver in the moonlight.

Something clatters softly at his feet. Startled, the boy looks down. The dark gnarls of wood rolls away from his bare toes, a sharp contrast of dark to his pale skin. The boy is curious, and he reaches down. Crouched with precarious balance, sitting on his heels, he picks up the branch, holding it delicately in his fingertips. His deadened sense revives, and he gives a small gasp as he experiences the sense of touch. It's incredible, and he wants more. He boldly wraps his long white fingers around the slender branch.

Immediately, frost and ice respond to him, sifting over the wood under his fingers. This time, he notices the frost's weave. Somehow, he knows this is unnatural, the way the frost spills from his touch. He frowns, dark eyebrows lowered over confused blue eyes. He turns the wood in his hand, examining the effect of his touch.

The branch is long and unwieldy. Unbalanced by a hook in the wood on one side, it dips towards gravity when the boy turns it. Its straight end hits the ice, sending a shudder up its length.

The boy winces, throwing up an arm to shield himself from the noise that shudders through the stillness. When nothing more disturbs the comatose, he lowers his arm. The end of the branch is lying in the middle of a spreading circle of frost, atop the ice of the water.

The boy's eyes widen, slowly drawing in a breath as he realizes the extent of wonder that awaits him.

There are trees surrounding the frozen pond. The boy draws close to one and cautiously reaches out the hook of his branch. He lightly taps the tree's trunk with the tip of his branch. A small star of soft white-blue light flickers at the contact and tendrils of intricate frost patterns across the bark. The boy stares at his work with an open mouth, and he reaches out. Under his hand, the frost continues to grow over the tree, reaching out in swirls until it has covered the entire tree. The boy's look of amazement melts to a smile of wonder and excitement. He grins and quickly turns, lifting his branch, he touches it to another tree, and bounces with glee when the same thing happens.

He starts to laugh and breaks into a run. He slips as he gains traction, waving his magical branch behind him as he goes. True to form, frost follows him, turning the plain ice into a tangible piece of moonlight, silver swirls adorning the frozen pond under his feet. The boy laughs in delight, spinning to see his work, and the sound of silence bows to the sound of joy.

The boy runs the length of the pond and turns to see the results. His heel slips and he pitches sideways. Before he hits the ground, however, a burst of air shoots from between the trees and scoops him up. The boy cries out, soaring high above the trees. His hair sweeps in the wind holding him aloft, and his cape billows around him. Recovering from his surprise, the boy stares at the ground far below him. He can see the silver of his frost spiralling outwards, turning the pond into a spark of bright ice amidst the darkness of the forest.

As quickly as it stared, the wind stops. The boy yelps, feeling himself suddenly falling. With a shriek, he plummets back down to earth, crashing through tree limbs and knocking sheets of snow free. With a muted thud, he hits a thick limb and wraps his arms around it, still clinging grimly to his hooked staff. The boy blinks in surprise and, finding himself unharmed, sits up and laughs. He pulls himself up onto the tree branch and balances on his toes, with his free hand bracing him. A smile of elation still on his face, the boy sees something that catches his attention.

A patch of warm golden light brightens the dark sky, and now that he has noticed, the boy can hear faint music and the sounds of human interaction.

Half laughing, half yelling in terror, the boy swoops through the air with his new-found skill, barely in control. He tries to stop himself and almost succeeds, stopping abruptly and dropping several feet to the ground. He lands on his feet, but he overbalances. Toppling to the ground in an undignified heap, his cape flips up over his head and he crashes into a pile of snow.

He has landed in a circle of firelight. Though it is well after nightfall, several people wander between the small gathering of houses, the central area scattered with fire pits. The air ripples with the sound of chatter, laughter, and even singing. The boy picks himself up off the ground, brushes snow from his shoulder and laughs at his own clumsiness.

A woman walks past him. He lifts a hand in greeting, still chuckling. She doesn't respond, but walks straight past, without any recognition to the boy. He doesn't mind, already bouncing to the next person.

"Hello, hello!" he calls waving a hand and smiling at everyone around him.

They all walk past him. Nobody has anything to say to the white-haired boy holding a hooked staff.

He approaches a young couple leaning on the side of a cabin. "Good evening," he says cheerfully. They continue to speak to one another in hushed tones. "Ma'am?" The boy leans forwards, trying to catch her eye.

A loudly yapping dog sprints past the boy, chased by a small child.

"Oh, excuse me," the boy says with a grin, crouching to the child's level. "Can you tell me where I am-?"

The child, without slowing, runs completely through the boy as if he weren't there. The boy straightens, breathing hard. His blue eyes stretch wide with panic. For a moment, all he can do is struggle to catch his breath. He turns and stares after the child in shock.

It starts to snow.

The boy cries out when a woman walks through him, calls, "Hello?" in an anguished voice to the man who follows the woman, but by the third time someone walks through his wraith-like form, the boy is nearly unaffected.

He turns in a circle, puts a hand to his chest. He can feel the ridges of his ribcage, the rough wool of his shirt. Why can no one see him?

He turns again and walks away into the snowflakes, disappearing into the darkness of the trees. He casts a longing glance over his shoulder, but he doesn't go back.

He vanishes into the sound of silence, where only he knows of his existence.

* * *

_Edit: A/N: So, I've been getting some follows on this... I'm sorry to disappoint, but I kinda meant for it to be only a one-shot. Unless someone desperately wants it to be otherwise (and I'm not totally sure what I'd do with it, anyways... would it even be legal if I just re-wrote the movie like this...?) I'm not going to be updating this story. Again, I'm sorry._

_So if you want to follow something of mine, the only story that I'm currently updating is 'Trying Again', which is a Guardians/ParaNorman crossover._

_Do with that what you will._

_On a seperate note, thank you all so much for your kind reviews! :D_

_-Leigh_


End file.
